


common virus

by military_bluebells



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: M/M, Sickfic, The Iceman Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:41:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24039049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/military_bluebells/pseuds/military_bluebells
Summary: “Cough into your elbow like a civilized human being.”Ray coughed pointedlynotinto his elbow. It was a mistake though, because he ended up starting another coughing fit, curling forward as the force nearly made him throw up.
Relationships: Brad Colbert/Ray Person
Comments: 3
Kudos: 48





	common virus

“Cough into your elbow like a civilized human being.” 

Ray coughed pointedly _not_ into his elbow. It was a mistake though, because he ended up starting another coughing fit, curling forward as the force nearly made him throw up. A hand started rubbing between his shoulder blades and Ray tried to focus on the heat of it as he continued to hack up his lungs. 

The fit subsided finally and Ray gulped for breath, blinking as his eyes watered. 

“I’m not going to give you sympathy for that.” 

“You never give me sympathy anyway.” Ray grouched, pushing at Brad’s chest half-heartedly. He didn’t move an inch and really, not only did Ray feel shitty because he was sick but now Brad had damaged his self-confidence. He told Brad as much. 

“What self-confidence could a whiskey tango fuck-up like you possibly have?” Brad commented as he brought a cup full of water to Ray’s lips. 

Ray swallowed carefully as Brad tipped the cup. He pulled it back before Ray could drown and he coughed out a thanks. 

“Shut up Ray.” Brad said fondly, like the sappy homosexual he was. Iceman Ray’s ass. Ray opened his mouth to retort but ended up coughing again. 

Brad pulled a pillow from his side of the bed and put it onto the growing pile behind Ray. He guided Ray back against the pillows and smoothed a hand over Ray’s forehead. Ray sighed, eyes slipping closed. 

“You still have a fever.” 

“No shit, it’s not like I can’t feel that.” Ray rolled his eyes and instantly regretted it when a shot of pain went across his forehead. 

Brad snorted beside him and reached over to the bedside table. 

Ray moaned as the cold flannel touched his forehead. Brad smirked above him, all smug and shit. Ray would've implied that Brad took enjoyment out of his pain, but he was too goddamn content to let Brad drag that sweet, sweet coolness down his neck. 

“If I scratch behind your ears, will you purr too?” Brad asked with amusement. 

Ray kept his eyes closed and only moved his hand to flip Brad off. He could feel Brad grinning above him. 

Ray whined in annoyance as the coolness went away and was replaced by a blanket, wrapping him up to his chin. Brad must be fucking psychic because as soon as he did that, Ray was rolling onto his side, wrapping himself into a burrito as he shivered. 

“There’s soup in the fridge, heat it up at 2 and keep it down this time.” 

“It’s not my fault I threw it up.” Ray grumbled into the pillows. 

“I thought a Recon Marine would have better aim; you got it everywhere but in the bucket.” 

“It was your shitty cooking.” Ray replied, not giving Brad the last word. Brad’s hand swept across the top his head, smoothing his hair and Ray didn’t know if he hallucinated the kiss on his forehead. He cracked one eye open and furrowed his brows. 

Brad chuckled, “My immune system isn’t a weak bitch like yours.” He said, like that was a fucking answer for the gay ass shit. Ray didn’t reply as Brad pulled the mentioned bucket off the floor and put it on a chair, dragging it next to Ray’s head. Brad paused and smiled softly, brushing through Ray’s hair again. 

Ray sighed, twisted into a better position, and passed out. 

* * *

Ray woke up as he heard the front door open and light appear through the gaps in the bedroom doorframe. 

He glanced around him, the bedroom dark in the evening light. He felt like shit; his muscles aching like he’d done PT for four hours, his throat was dry and tight, and his stomach growled angrily. 

He blinked furiously as the bedroom door opened and light flooded the room from the hallway. His eyes adjusted to let him see Brad standing in the doorway, with his arms crossed. 

“Sup homes,” Ray said, sitting up carefully. His voice croaked and he coughed. 

“You’re an idiot.” Brad said, pulling off his jacket and olive-green t-shirt. Ray leered at him as he pulled off his pants as well, probably looking more sleepy than lustful. Brad glanced over at him, and said, “Not while you’re sick Ray.” 

“I thought you said your…” Ray waved his hand about for a second, trying to thing of the word, “immune system!” he said with a cheer, “I thought you said your immune system wasn’t a weak bitch.” 

“It’s not,” Brad agreed, “but I can smell you from here, and I’m pretty sure your mouth will taste like the animal feed your mother gave you as a child, since she mistook you as a farm animal.” 

Ray laughed for a second before he started coughing, bending at the waist as he tried to breath. There was a hand on his bare chest before he could blink and another rubbing his back gently. He took a deep slow breath, exhaling shakily. 

The rim of a cup pressed against his bottom lip and he swallowed as much water as his stomach would allow. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, rubbing his chest as Brad’s hand moved. 

“Come on, I’ll heat up the soup.” Brad said, grasping Ray’s arm in his hand. 

Ray let himself be ushered into the kitchen/living room, and onto one of the bar stools. Brad doubled back and appeared in sweats and a t-shirt. Ray mourned the loss of his view, although the sweats didn’t do Brad’s ass too many injustices. 

The soup was pretty shit, but it was warm and felt fucking amazing on his throat; besides he’d eaten worse. They ate in almost silence, the only sound Ray slurping the soup off his spoon, only a little on purpose. He went for a second serving - his stomach was still growling - but as soon as he put the spoon in his mouth, his stomach changed its tune, from feed me, to get this shit out of here. 

Ray sprung from the bar stool, stumbling through the hallway as Brad called his name, and shoved the bathroom door open. He managed to empty his guts in the toilet this time, instead of on the floor. Brad appeared in his peripheral, dropping down to rub Ray’s back as his muscles protested him heaving into the toilet bowl. 

“Fuck,” Ray groaned again, resting his head on the rim. Brad smoothed a hand down his back as Ray panted, swallowing against the acid taste in his throat. 

“Come on, up, you’re not dead.” Brad said, lifting him off the floor. Fucking giants. Ray staggered to the door, Brad’s arm wrapped around his waist, and they shuffled over to the bed together. Brad lowered him down onto the mattress and pulled the blanket up over Ray’s chest. 

Ray sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair as Brad walked out of the bedroom. Ray drifted for a while, just breathing through his stomach cramps and staring at the ceiling. The bedroom door opened and closed, and Brad appeared on his side of the bed, flicking the lamp on. Ray glanced at Brad in confusion as he stripped down to his boxers and climbed into bed, grabbing one of the books Nate had leant them. 

“Homes, what the fuck are you doing?” 

“Well according to someone, misery loves company.” 

“I think it was Socratics.” Ray mumbled, rolling to put his head on Brad’s chest. 

Brad huffed, his chest moving up and down under Ray’s head, “Of course you would know that.” The tone was fond; Ray really needed to rib Brad about his mother-henning and sappiness, but he decided to leave it for a while; Brad wouldn’t scratch his scalp like that if Ray pissed him off.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt Credit: https://prompt-bank.tumblr.com/post/157678758298/domestic-otp-story-starters  
> “Cough into your elbow like a civilized human being.”


End file.
